Bleed Together
by Tango Eight
Summary: Just moments after losing their father, Connor has to face the possibility that he may be losing Murphy, as well.


This story is set at the end of The Boondock Saints II: All Saint's Day.

**Bleed Together**

The MacManus brothers stood back-to-back, facing an army of swat and police officers.

Connor seemed to be standing steady, regardless of the blood staining the front of his shirt.

Murphy on the other hand looked like he was about to collapse. His face was paling by the second as the blood drained from his body. He wanted to remain strong in front of the group but he was going down and he knew it. He was light-headed and cold. It was getting harder and harder to breath.

Connor could always feel his brother's presence. It was a twin thing, he supposed. Even if he wasn't looking at him or touching him, Connor could always tell what was up with Murphy. His own wounds stung but they didn't seem too bad. The bleeding felt like it was stopping. However, something seemed off with Macho Murph.

"Con," Murphy whispered, trying to get his twins attention as he felt the ground shift beneath his feet. Connor heard the weakness in his voice and turned. He could see his brother's pale skin and faraway look. He could sense the exact second Murphy started to fall.

Connor was able to catch him in his arms; he lowered his brother to the ground slowly. Murphy's head lolled to the side, his eyes closed. Connor smacked his cheek lightly.

"Murphy? Murph! What's wrong?" Murphy's eyes slid open, his breathing stuttered in his chest.

"Connor?" Murphy's blue eyes looked around, searching for the familiar face of his brother. "Cuh…nnn…Cold."

Connor's heart froze in his chest. His own wounds forgotten, he started roaming his hands over Murphy's black, blood-soaked t-shirt. He found two huge wet spots; one near Murphy's chest on his shoulder and one just under his ribs and slightly to the left on his abdomen. Blood was also soaking through the jeans on his left leg from his shin.

"Fuck," Connor exclaimed and cupped his hands over the profusely bleeding wound in Murphy's abdomen. Murphy's breathing caught; his head went back as his back arched off the ground in extreme pain. "I'm sorry, brudder, I've gotta stop the bleedin'."

Murphy brought his hand up, placing it on top of Connor's. He coughed, a small stream of blood flowed from his lips down his face. Connor reached up to wipe it away but only smeared more. Connor replaced his hand over Murphy's and used their combined hands to staunch the flow. The ground beneath Murphy was stained crimson, the puddle slowly moving further out.

"Ok, Con?" Murphy asked. The words sounded thick and wet, more blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, Murphy groaned as more pain racked his body.

Connor laughed. Of course his brother would be bleeding out and yet still be asking him if he was all right. Connor looked down at his own body, categorizing his wounds. His shoulder stung and he felt a sharp pain low down on his side. He didn't seem to be bleeding anymore, though, a definite improvement over Murphy.

"Aye, I'll be all right. Don't worry about me now, brudder. We're both goin' to be jus' fine, you'll see."

Murphy looked relieved even as his eyelids began to close as too much blood seeped through their fingers.

"Stay awake! Ya hear me?" Connor was getting desperate; his Irish brogue becoming more pronounced.

"Aye," Murphy answered, eyes opening. The words caused his whole chest to seize up. He began to cough and sputter blood. His face twisted in agony before he stopped and sank back to the ground. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, completely looking through Connor. He began to shiver, his face a dusty pale color, and his lips shockingly blue.

Connor panicked.

"Stay with me, brudder!" Murphy's eyes shifted to stare into his twin's. He tried to say something, anything, but no sound would come out. His eyes shifted away again, the light in them dimmed and his chest remained still.

Connor dug his fingers into the side of his brother's neck, a faint pulse was there but Murphy wasn't breathing. Connor began to pray as he released his brother's hand over the bloody wound. He positioned himself over Murphy's head. He tilted his brother's head back, pinched his nose shut and forced two breaths into Murphy's lungs. He waited a moment.

"Come on, Murphy, don't leave me." Connor begged but Murphy's chest remained still. He checked and felt the weak pulse was still there. He gave his dear brother two more of his own breaths.

Still nothing.

Connor's vision swam as tears clouded his eyes. Murphy blurred in front of him. He wiped his eyes with his arm; the pale face came back into view.

Connor inflated still lungs again with no result but on the second try Murphy exploded into life. He began to cough, deep, wet sounding coughs. He rolled over to his side with the help of Connor and spat out way to much blood. He rolled onto his back once again.

"Thank God," Connor cried as he lifted Murphy's head into his lap. He ran his fingers, stained with blood, through his brother's hair. "Hold on, Murph, you're gonna be ok, now."

Murphy could only breathe as his brother held onto him. He used the contact like an anchor to life. As long as Connor was holding onto him, as long as Connor was fighting for him, he'd fight too. One couldn't live without the other, so Murphy did everything in his power to keep air flowing in and out of his lungs.

"Is someone goin' ta help him," Connor yelled at the crowd of people. Why hadn't they come forward yet? When Murphy stopped breathing, why did no one try to help Connor save him?

_They probably wanted to spare themselves the trouble of saving his life only to stick him in prison. _Connor thought darkly, glaring at anyone he believed to have that motive.

Two paramedics walked up the stairs and kneeled down at Murphy's side. Connor slid out from under his brother's head so they would have enough room to work. He didn't want to lose that contact with Murphy but he knew that he needed to trust these people to save his twin's life.

Connor watched as they placed an oxygen mask over Murphy's nose and mouth. They placed pressure bandages on the bullet wounds and a third brought up a stretcher. They rolled Murphy onto the backboard which jostled his injuries enough to make him cry out in pain. Connor was at his side in a second. He grabbed onto his hand and ran his fingers through Murphy's dark hair.

"Sir, you're injured, too. If you will just stay here, we have to leave with him now, but another ambulance is coming for you." A blond haired paramedic told Connor. Connor sized the man up. He looked young, maybe mid-twenties. He also looked terrified. He obviously knew who Connor and Murphy were.

"I'll be all right," Connor said. "I'm ridin' with him an' they can patch me up when we get there." The paramedic looked like he wanted to argue but was soon distracted by a fast, erratic beeping noise coming from below.

Murphy had been attached to a portable heart monitor and it was now reading a dangerous heart rate.

"We have to go," one of the paramedics working directly on Murphy said.

"You can come," the blond paramedic said. "But stay out of the way." Connor nodded and followed them to the back of the ambulance. Once Murphy was secure, Connor jumped in behind the paramedics and sat on the side off to the side. He picked Murphy's hand up when he saw it searching for his.

"Yer goin' ta be all right, now," he quietly told his brother. Murphy was staring at him over the oxygen mask that was obscuring most of his face. Murphy's grip tightened in his brother's as a wave of pain washed through his body. Connor kept the mantra up, repeating the words over and over again. He didn't know if he was saying them for the benefit of Murphy or to convince himself that it was the truth.

Connor was looking at his brother's blue eyes when it happened. Murphy gasped suddenly and tried to sit up. The paramedics tried to push him back down but he was fighting them.

"He has to calm down," Connor heard one of the paramedics say, he didn't care which one.

"Get the brother to calm him," said another. The blond paramedic looked over at Connor.

"Your brother is in pain and he's fighting us, he's going to hurt himself more if he doesn't calm down but he won't for us. Could you try?" He asked. Connor was out of his seat in a second and leaning over Murphy. He placed a hand on Murphy's cheek and forced his head sideways to look at him.

"Murph, ya have to relax." Connor said sternly. "I know it hurts but ya have to relax." Murphy looked into his eyes so full of pain and it nearly broke Connor to see it.

"Can't ya give him somethin'?" Connor asks, his desperate eyes pleading with the paramedics.

"Not until we get to the hospital," the blond paramedic said sadly. Connor felt his impression of the man changing at the way he said the words. He actually seemed to feel bad that his brother was hurting instead of being afraid of them. Didn't people know that they only went after people who did bad things? Didn't people know they were only trying to protect them?

Connor forced his attention go back to his ailing brother, which wasn't a difficult task. Murphy had quieted down and was no longer trying to sit up. His head was rolling back and forth on the pillow, his eyes glassy and staring at everything and nothing at the same time. Connor could see his mouth moving silently behind the oxygen mask and knew his brother was trying to tell him something.

"What is it, Murph?" Connor asked, leaning down so he could hear. Murphy reached up and pulled the mask to the side of his face. The paramedics tried to put it back but Connor stopped them.

"Da's de-dead, Con." Murphy's rough voice said. Connor sighed. He had almost forgotten they had just lost their father. That kind of paled in comparison when it came to the fact that he could be losing Murphy, too.

"I know," Connor said, placing the oxygen mask on his brother's face himself. Murphy's eyes were full of pain and tears. "Murphy?" He said as Murphy's breathing hitched and his eyes screwed up tight in overwhelming pain. The heart monitor began beeping loudly and someone pushed him back into his seat.

The paramedics were talking in a language he didn't understand which was unnerving since he was fluent in so many of them. He made a silent note that he was to become more familiar with medical terminology in case he was ever in a situation like this again.

Murphy's tense body relaxed completely on the bed. Connor thought for a second that maybe that meant he was getting better but as he stared at his brother's lifeless eyes, he knew that was exactly the opposite of what was happening.

The beeping became more erratic and a paramedic tore the oxygen mask off his face and maneuvered his body around the bed until he was standing directly behind Murphy's head. The ambulance slid to a stop at the side of the road. The paramedic tipped Murphy's head back and slid a metal instrument down his throat. He guided a tube down his throat, as well, and pulled the metal blade and a wire in the tube out, leaving the tube in place.

_He can't breathe on his own, _Connor realized in horror.

The paramedic attached a balloon shaped piece to the end of the tube and began rhythmically squeezing air into Murphy's body. The heart monitor slowed as his body was given the oxygen it so desperately needed. The ambulance soon resumed driving them to the hospital.

Connor stared at Murphy's lifeless body. He looked at his face with the tube sticking out of his mouth. He looked at his bare torso covered in blood and bandages. At some point the paramedics had cut Murphy's shirt up the center so now the torn ends were lying by his side and his arms were still in the sleeves. Connor reached out and held onto Murphy's hand, trying to transfer his own dwindling energy into his brother's body.

The ambulance stopped again and Connor looked around in confusion. The doors swung open and more medical personnel were there to pull Murphy from the back and wheel him inside.

Someone helped him down and lead him into the emergency room. He watched the frantic movements surrounding his brother as he was wheeled into a room.

Connor let himself get dragged into the room next to Murphy's. There was a door connecting the two rooms with a window at the perfect height to let Connor watch everything that was happening to his brother.

He could see that Murphy was being stripped of clothes and covered in a sheet from the waist down. It was hiked up above the bleeding wound in his lower leg. He could see that Murphy still had the tube down his throat and it was connected to a big machine by the head of the bed. He could see the bloody gauze that was being thrown to the ground as they desperately tried to staunch the bleeding. He could hear the faint, unnaturally frantic beeping from his brother's heart monitor.

He, however, didn't feel the hands poking and prodding his own injuries. He had completely forgotten he was even being looked at until the doctor started talking to him about what she had found.

"You got lucky and you're not going to need any surgery." She said in a clinical voice. For the first time, Connor really looked at her. She was on the older side of middle aged. She had dark brown hair mixed with a lot of grey and wore glasses that were connected by a chain around her neck. She was stocky and short and had a no-nonsense look to her. She almost reminded Connor of his own mother, minus the morbid since of humor and Irish attitude. "You're going to need stitches and then I would like you to stay a few days for observation. I'll have someone come in to give you the sutures in a few minutes. Just lie back and relax." She said and had walked half-way to the door before Connor even realized she was leaving.

"Wait," he said. The woman turned around and peered at him over her glasses that were hanging low on her nose. "Can I be put in the same room as my, brudder?" He asked. She sighed and looked into the other room where Murphy was being wheeled away to surgery.

"It's not usually hospital policy to let people have a say in which room they're being put into but just this once, I think we can allow it. Just let me talk to my supervisor and we'll get you set up in a double. When he's out of surgery and recovery, I'm sure we can bring him in." Connor thanked her. The woman smiled and left the room.

Now that Murphy was being taken care of in surgery, Connor was able to lie back on the examination table. His own injuries were finally starting to take a toll on him and he felt the tug of sleep beckoning him. He fought it at first but then slowly gave in.

He woke up in a different room, on a different bed, and in different clothes. He looked around. The room was white and sterile. A TV hung near the ceiling in the middle of the opposite wall. Another bed was positioned next to his but it was empty. Connor glanced down at himself. He was wearing a paper-thin hospital gown and covered in a thin blanket. He had something clamped to his finger and was about to pull it off when he followed the wire it was connected to and saw some kind of machine near his head so he left it alone. He also had an IV attached to the back of his hand. He placed his free hand to his side and felt the thick padding of a bandage over his bullet wound. He felt his shoulder and found the same thing.

_Murphy,_ Connor thought when he remembered everything that had happened; he needed to find someone who could tell him if his brother was all right. He searched around and found a small remote for the bed with a big, red button near the top. In small, black letters over the button, he read the word nurse and quickly pushed it.

Within a matter of seconds, a much younger, much plumper nurse walked into the room.

"You rang," she said, realizing that there was no medical emergency happening in the room.

"Where is my brudder?" Connor said.

"What's your brother's name?" The nurse asked, glancing at the room number on the door.

"Murphy MacManus," Connor said, impatiently. Recognition dawned on the nurse's face.

"You're one of the Saint's, aren't you?" She asked in awe. Connor nodded hesitantly. Was she one of their supporters or one of the many who fear them? "I thought I recognized your names." She said with a smile and he realized she was a supporter.

"Murphy?" Connor insisted.

"Of course," she said. "He survived the surgery and is in recovery as we speak. As soon as he comes out of the anesthesia he will be placed in here on the bed next to yours. I don't know what his condition is so the surgeon will have to tell you that when he get here." She stopped talking and Connor sighed in relief. Murphy was alive. She walked to the end of Connor's bed and picked up his chart.

"You had two bullet wounds, one to the shoulder and one to your side. They were both clean, through-and-throughs. Minor damage was done to the muscle tissue in each location but that should heal completely in time. You didn't need surgery but were pretty out of it when they went to stitch you up so we are giving you a blood transfusion, fluids, and morphine for the pain." Connor processed his own condition but didn't really care about it that much. Murphy was the one he was concerned for.

"Do you have any other questions for me?" She asked and Connor shook his head. "All right, then," she said and walked out the room. Connor was readjusting his body against the pillow when she swung around the door frame, again.

"You know, I'm not really supposed to say this but I think it's a really good thing what you and your brother do. The system is unjust and you make a whole lot of us feel a lot safer." She smiled once more and disappeared again. Connor could only stare at the empty doorway

Connor was starting to feel the effect from the morphine and sunk deeper into the bed, his eyes closing of their own accord. As his body succumbed to healing sleep, he hoped that when he woke up his brother would be there, right next to him where he belonged.

When Connor went to sleep, the room had been silent. He was attached to a heart monitor but the sound was turned off because he wasn't in danger of dying. Now, as he slowly blinked awake he realized that there were two sounds that weren't there before. The first sound was the steady beep from a heart monitor and the second was the sound of doctors talking to one another somewhere in the room.

Connor waited until his vision cleared and then looked around. Murphy was lying on the bed next to his own. He had all of the same stuff that Connor had hooked up to him, only more. Connor could see that Murphy was covered in a blanket form the waist down but his hospital gown was put on the opposite way so that the ties were in the front. He assumed that was so the doctors could have easier access to his injuries. Next he noticed that his whole torso seemed to be swathed in bandages and he had a tube sticking out of his side. He also had a nasal cannula under his nose and wrapped behind his ears to help him breathe.

_At least he's breathing on his own, now. _Connor thought with a sigh of relief. The doctors around his bed were adjusting things and writing in his chart. They were talking quietly amongst themselves and hadn't noticed that Connor was awake yet.

"Is he all right?" Connor said in a hoarse voice and the doctor who had his back to Connor startled. When he turned to see where the voice had come from he nodded, seeing Connor lying there.

"He should be," the doctor said. "Are you the brother?" Connor nodded. "Okay, then I can tell you his condition. First of all, he had a through-and-through bullet wound to his lower leg. That is the least of ours worries, though. We sutured that rather quickly and it should heal in time with physical therapy. He should have no lasting damage from the injury except for a small scar.

"He had two more bullet wounds in his torso which caused a lot more damage. One bullet entered his abdomen on his left side and ruptured his spleen. The damage was too severe and we had to remove the organ.

"The bullet wound in the upper part of his chest caused considerable damage to his lung and we had to place a chest tube to help reflate it when his lung collapsed.

"Overall, he is very lucky to be alive. He will be in a lot of pain for a while and he has a long recovery ahead of him, but his prognosis is very good. Your brother is quite the fighter; a lot of people would have died from wounds like his."

Connor nodded as the doctor spoke. With every new detail he felt himself becoming more lightheaded by the damage done to his brother. However, he was very relieved to hear that Murphy would recover.

"So, he can live without a spleen, then?" Connor said and the doctor nodded.

"Yes, he will be more prone to infection now but we are keeping a close eye on him for that." When the doctor found that Connor had no more questions, he turned back to his patient. Connor watched them check everything his brother was attached to and soon after they left.

Connor sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed so his feet were on the cold ground. He tried to stand up but the IV in his hand pulled so he sat back down. He would have the next person who came into the room detach him from everything so he could sit by his brother's side. He knew that Murphy would be nervous when he woke up and would want to see Connor first when he opened his eyes, so Connor just sat at the edge of the bed and watched his brother breathe.

The plump nurse from before was the first person to enter the room. Connor immediately had her disconnect him from everything, even though she told him it was against medical advice, that he still needed the pain medicine at least. He gave in finally and let her keep the IV in his hand. She found a chair and brought it to the side of Murphy's bed. She helped him into the chair and wheeled the IV stand next to the chair before leaving.

Connor held onto Murphy's hand, willing him to be okay, to wake up. He sat by his brother's side for hours before Murphy's hand twitched in his grasp.

Connor's eyes flew to Murphy's face and he watched as Murphy's eyes fluttered open. He groaned in pain and his head rolled to the side, facing Connor.

"Con," he whispered. His voice was terribly hoarse from the ventilator tube.

"Murph, I'm here." Connor told him and Murphy nodded, his eyes closing in discomfort. Connor searched until he found the bed control and pushed the 'nurse' button.

"O-okay?" Murphy asked, opening one eye to stare pointedly at Connor, daring him to lie.

"I'll be okay, so will you," he said. Murphy shut his eyes again but his grimace deepened. Connor looked at the door, willing someone to come and help his brother.

The plump nurse walked in and quickly rushed to Murphy's side when she noticed he was awake and in pain.

"Hold on, Murphy," she told him, holding onto his other hand. She checked all of the equipment he was attached to but told Connor his chart said that his doctor had to see him before he could be given any more pain medication.

Connor glared at her but knew it wasn't her fault so he turned his attention back to his brother. Sweat was collecting on Murphy's forehead and Connor wiped it away with his hand. Something didn't feel right, though. Murphy's forehead felt cold and clammy. He was becoming paler. He pointed this out to the nurse who felt his forehead with the back of her own hand. Her eyes went wide and she ran out of the room without saying a word.

Murphy started shivering and Connor pulled the blanket up higher. Murphy's eyes opened and they had a glassy look to them again. The heart monitor made a strange noise before everything started beeping wildly. Connor noticed Murphy's eyes closing and shook his brother.

"Stay awake, Murphy," Connor said but his brother's eyes slid closed and his head lolled to the side. Connor stared in shock at how fast Murphy had deteriorated.

The doctors from before rushed into the room, the nurse guided Connor back into his own bed and moved the chair away from Murphy's.

"Blood pressure's dropping…"

"Bleeding somewhere…"

"Get him back in surgery to find the bleed…"

"They must have missed something the first time around…"

"Abdomen distended, hard as a rock…"

"Let's move it, we're losing him…"

Connor was stunned as the doctors wheeled Murphy out of the room. What had just happened? Murphy was supposed to be okay, now. He was supposed to be getting better, not worse.

The nurse stayed behind with a solemn look in her bright blue eyes.

"What happened?" Connor asked her. She looked at the empty space where Murphy's bed used to be and sighed.

"He started hemorrhaging internally. They must have missed something during his first surgery. They're going to open him back up and fix whatever is bleeding. He went into hypovolemic shock from the blood loss."

"How could they miss somethin'?" Connor asked furiously. His brother could die because they didn't fix everything that needed fixing when he was first brought in like they were supposed to.

"That happens sometimes. There is so much bleeding inside when they do the first surgery that they don't realize there is more damage. It also could have happened when he was moved from the gurney to the bed. Something on the brink of tearing, tears during the rough movements."

"Will he live?" Connor asked. It was the only thing that was important to him, now.

"I won't sugar coat it, it's not looking very good. But, he's already proved he's a fighter. If anyone can pull through this, it's your brother."

Connor nodded and thanked her. He wouldn't be truly satisfied with any answer until Murphy was out of the second surgery and until then he really wanted to be left alone. The nurse left and he rolled onto his side, facing away from the door towards the windows.

_What's happening to us, _Connor wondered.

He waited for several more hours until someone came in and told him that Murphy was out of surgery and being placed in ICU. Connor harassed anyone who passed the door to let him go up to the ICU to see Murphy until finally the nurse came in with a wheelchair and helped him into it. She wheeled him into the hall and onto the elevator.

"What's yer name?" Connor asked suddenly, realized he didn't know it.

"Emily," she told him.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and Emily pushed him into a new but identical hallway. She pushed him until they came to the ICU and then she pushed him all the way up to his brother's side. He was hooked up to a ventilator again and that made Connor's hope crumble.

A completely new doctor walked up to the pair and closed the curtain around Murphy's bed so they were all inside.

"How's he doin'?" Connor asked.

"As well as can be expected," the doctor said. "He had severe internal bleeding within his abdomen which required emergency surgery to repair but I think you already knew that. The surgery went well but with the added stress to his lungs from the hypovolemic shock, anesthesia, and overall trauma of surgery, his lungs are too weak to work on their own so we've placed him on a ventilator to help him breathe until he is stronger. If nothing else goes wrong, he should still be able to make a full recovery. We're keeping a very close eye on him and we will know right away if anything changes."

"Thanks, doc," Connor said, not taking his eyes off of Murphy. He didn't think that he would ever be able to leave his side again if he survived this. The doctor left with Emily.

_Doc, _Connor though, _he'd want to know about this. _

Connor looked around until he found a phone on the table beside Murphy's bed. He wheeled himself closer and grabbed onto the receiver. He held it to his ear with one hand and dialed with the other. It took three rings before he heard a very familiar voice.

"Aye?" I voice said and Connor sighed. What was he going to tell him?

"Doc, its Connor." Connor told the old bartender.

"Where are ya, are ya okay? How's yer brudder? Fuck…Ass…" Doc asked. Connor rubbed a hand over his forehead and closed his eyes, ignoring Doc's Tourettes which normally greatly amused him.

"We're at the hospital, ya should… ya should come down here, doc. I don't know if Murphy's gonna make it." Connor's voice cracked at the end and he rubbed his eyes, wiping away the moisture that had collected there.

"I'll be there soon, Connor." Doc said and hung up immediately.

Connor listened to the dial tone for a few seconds before hanging up. He moved back over to Murphy's side. It was hard to maneuver in the chair but he didn't really care. He reached out and grabbed Murphy's pale hand. It was so cold, as if all the warmth had been sucked out of his body. He already felt like a corpse. Connor banished the thought from his mind. Murphy would make it, he would live and they would be all right. Everything would be all right.

Connor was silently praying over his brother's body when he felt cold fingers tighten on his warmer ones. He looked up to see Murphy staring at him, his mouth moving around the tube.

"Ya can't speak, Murphy." Connor said. "The tube is helpin' ya breathe." Murphy nodded and closed his eyes allowing his body to work with the ventilator.

"That's good, brudder. How are ya feelin'?"

Murphy lifted his free hand and gave him a shaky thumbs up. Connor smiled and squeezed his hand lightly.

"You can go ta sleep, Murph. I'm here." Connor said and Murphy closed his eyes, the tension leaving his body. The heart monitor remained steady so Connor relaxed in the chair. "I'll always be here right here."

Connor saw the slight smile that lifted around the ventilator tube and couldn't help but smile as well.

Murphy would be okay. They could face whatever was coming next because they had each other and really that was all that mattered.

The End

I hope this story is enjoyable and in-character! I've never written a story with these characters before so I was nervous I wouldn't be able to make it believable. Please let me know what you thought! Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


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